Time to Kill
by msjgatsby
Summary: Before killing Donnie, the Russians decide to kill some time. Frankie is just along for the ride...
1. Chapter 1

I'm going to ruin the "surprise" up front and say this is a PIKE story. Because let's face it, if you're familiar with my work, that's never really a surprise. This was my original idea as to how I would write Paige into the pilot episode, since Serinda Swan wasn't cast at that point. I still consider it mostly in canon. (Yes, I obsess over canon too much. I don't see the fun in writing fanfiction if I'm not seeing how far I can stretch the rules without breaking them)

I actually came up with this idea over a year ago, and I was going to have another writer help me write it because I'm not good at smut, but then I realized I couldn't write with other people because I'm too much of a control freak. So I had to let my first rough draft sit for a while so I could get back to my original vision while I attempted to forget the second draft the other writer sent back to me that I discarded. (Don't get me wrong, I like this other writer's work, it just wasn't in line with my vision and I'm oddly picky about tone of my characters)

And in answer to the questions- yes I will finish my other stories I have on this site hopefully soon. These little projects are just a tad more manageable for me, and I'm a little out of practice/out of the zone where I hear the characters talking, so editing these side projects from my vault help me get back into it.

**Warnings:** Poorly written smut will occur at some point.

* * *

Mike's breath fogs the glass of the car as they drive down the road. He can do this. The car pulls over in the parking lot of a building with no windows in a rough side of town.

"Let's go Frankie." Ludwig, the man who has been riding in the backseat with a gun trained on Mike, calls back to him to get out of the car. Mike swallows hard and with a shaky hand reaches for the handle. This is it.

"I'm ready. Just tell me who I'm gonna kill." Mike says nervously. He just needs a name so he can get out of here. He hopes Briggs and a dozen cop cars will show up out of nowhere at any second, but the night is silent.

"That can wait. We are ahead of schedule. You look like you could use drink. We won't be long." Benjamin, the more friendly Russian who was driving the car, advises him.

Mike realizes it's a bouncer guarding the door, and the other men hand him their ID's. The bouncer looks sceptically at Frankie's ID and Mike's hands begin to sweat. Still he's allowed to pass with no problems.

Mike's eyes widen as they enter the club. The whole place is a world of velvet, silk, and dark lighting. Mike's one of the youngest patrons there, and everywhere he looks he sees scantily clad young women. It's his first real mission, and the Russian's have brought him to a strip club. He is never gonna live this down.

"What is this place?" Mike asks, trying to get intel for Briggs on his location.

"It's called The Clam." One of the Russian's says, hopefully loud enough that Mike's watch can pick up the name through the pounding of the bass.

"Classy." Mike scoffs, looking around.

"Best kept secret in town. The vodka is cheap and so are girls." Benjamin says, wrapping his arm around a passing waitress and placing an order. Ludwig gestures for Mike to follow him and Benjamin to what is apparently their normal table.

Mike starts to follow, but something stops him in the middle of the floor. On stage wrapped around a pole is the most beautiful woman Mike has ever seen in real life. She has short red hair, a toned tanned body and her hips move in a hypnotic fashion that mesmerises Mike. For a moment he forgets where he is, who he is, he just stands and watches in awe. Benjamin calls to him, and it brings Mike out of his trance. He's not sure how long he was standing there gaping, but he knows the drinks beat him to the table.

He sits down and stares at the bottle of vodka and three glasses. Mike points out a girl on the opposite side of the bar to the other men who turn, allowing Mike to cut his vodka with water. There is way too much riding on this for him to let his senses dull.

His eyes dart back up to the stage, but the girl is gone and in her place is a topless asian girl in a blue wig. Mike's eyes come politely back to his drink. The two men he's with are laughing and speaking in Russian back and forth leaving Mike to sit and contemplate. He's feeling fidgety. He just wants to get it all over with. This waiting is making it worse.

Suddenly the two Russian men turn to stare at Mike and his heart drops into his stomach. He should have been paying more attention to their interaction. Had he done something wrong? Just then Mike feels hands on his shoulders, and hot breath in his ear and he realized they weren't staring at Mike. They were looking behind him. Mike relaxes, but only a bit, because there's hands touching him. The girl behind him is rubbing his shoulders, and admittedly if stripping doesn't work out for this girl she should become a masseuse, but Mike has a job to do and he can't allow himself to lose focus.

"I'm sorry I'm just here to drink. I'm not here for…" Mike's voice trails off when he turns to see the hands on his shoulders belong to the beautiful redhead he saw dancing up on stage before. She seems even more gorgeous up close, if possible. Her green eyes are covered in dark smudged eyeliner, with a twinkle in them like she's up to go good. Mike's mouth is dry.

"What a coincidence, so am I." The redhead takes the glass from Mike's hand and walks around him until she's straddling his lap staring down at him from where she stands. She takes a sip of his drink, and then sets it down on the table behind her making a face. "We need to get you something stronger."

She leans over so her hands are on the back of the chair and begins to dance above him, her breasts hanging tantalizingly in his eyesight. Mike doesn't need to see to know that the two Russian men's eyes are glued to the girl's fantastic ass. Mike closes his eyes uncomfortably. He's not sure what to do with his hands and the girl dances lower and lower until he can feel her undulating in his lap. His fingers clench helplessly into the chair he holds on to. She suddenly arches her back so far that her hair brushes the floor and her entire body is displayed beneath Mike's eyes. His hands instinctively come to her hips to keep her from falling off him, not that she needed it, and when she slowly and sensually brings herself back up a seated position, her eyes lock with Mike's. His heart is beating tightly in his chest, and she continues to a seated position until her lips are mere centimeters from Mike's ear.

"Pay for a room…" She whispers. and Mike at first doesn't understand because his entire world has shrunk to just her and him in this chair and he didn't realize there were such things as rooms. Her hot breath in his ear promises, "I'll make it worth your while."

"I can't- I don't-" Mike can't think with her so close and his fingers clench into her hip.

The red head takes charge sensing Mike's complete inability to do anything at the moment and turns her head to the other two men. Mike is a puddle beneath her.

"Hey can I steal your friend for a minute?" The redhead asks the two Russians as Mike sits terrified. Unable to do anything but stare at the beautiful woman in his lap.

"You know what? I will pay for lap dance. What da hell? You've had hard day, right?" One Russian clapped Mike on the back.

The girl takes Mike's hand and drags him away from the table. Mike has no choice but to reluctantly follow. He has to keep his cool and keep his cover. He keeps reminding himself that Felix and his family are depending on him. He needs to focus. He's Frankie Bout.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** So I think this story will be about five chapters long. I am starting to realize people are afraid to comment on M rated stories. I know you're reading them because I can see a tally of views, but I feel like we're all awkwardly looking at our feet embarrassed to talk to each other at the end of them. This story is from my vault, so it's pretty much finished, just needs some shine. I will have it finished by V-day as a present to all you lovely readers.

Home really just needs one more chapter to wrap up, I'm just not sure what it is. I wrote something, and then didn't like it. So I'm mulling it over but open to suggestions.

White Flag I'll get back to soon as well. I have it all storyboarded out already, I just need to write it.

Also I want to rewrite Fire. I'll keep pretty much everything the same I just need to edit it some, obviously make it a little more clear that Mike fires her to keep her safe, not because he's angry (well maybe a little bit). Also I need to break it up into chapters, because that's way too much block of text to keep straight. I really just threw all that on the page in one purge.

So those are the goals. Please hold me to them.

* * *

She pulls him into a small discreet room with a single chair in the center of it, and a bouncer at the door. Once he's inside, she sets him down in the chair. He can feel her come up behind him, her hands place on his shoulders and begin to rub them, trying to take away some of Mike's tension. Her hands are magical, but he is on such high alert from her presence, he just sits straight and stiff. He feels her hands begin to make their way down her chest, and feels her begin to rub her body against back, his kissing his exposed neck.

"Look, you are very lovely, but I should get back to my, uh, my friends." Mike is having trouble forming complete sentences with this beautiful redhead sucking on his neck writhing against him. "I'm uh… I'm married."

She pulls away and looks at him with an amused look on her face. Mike is thankful to have finally found something to take control of the situation. Of course he can't have a lap dance. Frankie's married. She'd have to respect that right. "Yep. Married. To Katerina. She's Russian."

The redhead grins at him, before leaning in so her lips press against his ear.

"Вы не говорите ни слова по-русски, не так ли? Но ты красивая." Mike has no clue what the hell this woman just said, but he wants to get those words embroidered on a throw pillow and then fuck it. Who knew Russian was such a sexy language?

"Da?" he says hopefully, not at all understanding what is happening.

"Perfect…" She purrs. The door still open to the empty hallway outside with a huge man standing in the doorway, but the girl throws a leg over his lap and straddles him. "Sorry the bouncer has to watch to make sure you don't get too rough… but that doesn't guarantee I won't." She grins as she begins to gyrate in Mike's lap. Mike's not sure what to do with his eyes or his hands as she dances on him. In a conversational tone she asks, "So you're married?"

"Yep, Katerina. I'm Frankie. Frankie Bouts. She's a year younger than me. We got married, oh my god, a couple years ago. My family flew in from Chicago. I'm from Chicago…" Mike is babbling nervously as the young woman's perfect breasts lightly bounce in a red lace bra inches from his face.

"Oh yeah? Where's your wedding ring?" She sucks his left ring finger between her lips and Mike gasps, hypnotized by the sight of it slowly sliding out between her pink lips. Mike can't believe that he overlooked his married cover and sent him out without a wedding ring.

"Mmm… poor baby you're nervous aren't you? Is it the bouncer watching?" The red head purrs in his ear, and Mike's eyes dart over to the man standing by the door. The huge tattooed man is the least of his concerns right now. Still the blonde grins and nips at his ear and says in a breathy voice, "Don't worry about him. Frankie, relax."

Mike laughs nervously at her very bad joke. The joke itself is probably old enough for Mike to have sex with… and what is wrong with him that he can't think of anything but having sex right now? He needs to say something, anything to get him back to the safety of those two armed Russian gangsters and away from the dangers of this beautiful woman.

"I… Oh…" He can't think as she moves behind him. He can feel her hands sensually kneading his neck, running through his hair, sending shivers down his spine. He let's out an unintentional moan, and she leans down wrapping her arms around his chest pulling at his shirt, her breasts against his back, her breath in his ear.

"Mmmm… want a quick hit to get this party going?" She puts a small white pill on her tongue, and sensually brings it into her mouth, closing her eyes and sighing as she swallows the small pill.

Her breath is hot against his cheek, and his mouth instinctually turns towards hers.

"What do you have?" Mike asks nervously, trying to keep up the guise of his cover.

"Well that was the last of my E, but something tells me you're more of an H kind of guy." She says, running a black tipped finger up his wrist.

"What gave me away?" Mike asks, feeling himself settle into playing his part.

This girl was more than beautiful, she was observant. Mike was fascinated by her. Not just the way her hips seemed to detach from her body, moving in ways he couldn't fathom, but what might have brought her to this path in life. She seemed far too smart, and far too proud for such an establishment as this. Mike finds himself wanting to know all her secrets, but before he can ask, she shocks him once again. Pulling out a rubber band from behind him, she straddles his lap.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Mike demands in surprise, as she wraps the rubber band around his arm and starts slapping his arm to find the vein.

"Oh don't worry about him. He's paid to look the other way." The girl assures him, glancing over at the bouncer, who is indeed dutifully ignoring them.

"No, I mean, I don't…" Mike starts to panic as she seems to find a vein she likes on his arm.

What is he going to do? He can't shoot up with heroin, but his cover… In a moment of sheer panic, Mike does the only thing he can think of. He grabs her arms, stopping her from preparing him for a needle and yanks her closer to press his lips to hers. He instantly freezes the second he feels the silk of her lips, realizing this is more deadly than any drug she could have given him. He's hooked.


	3. Chapter 3

She seems surprised by his sudden kiss, and the bouncer makes a move towards them. Mike for a moment thinks he's found his solution, and hopes the large man will tear him away from her and beat some sense into him. There is no other way Mike would find the willpower to remove his lips from hers, but Mike's last thought of escape disappears when she holds up a hand to stop the man from interrupting.

Her lips pull back just far enough to brush softly over his like a whisper, and Mike breaths in a shaky breath, before crushing his lips to hers. He moves his lips in a pattern she seems to know by heart, and his tongue slips past her teeth to swipe against hers. She tastes sweet and clean, like cool mint and cherry lip balm, completely unlike anything he expected to find in this dirty club. His arms wrap around the small of her bare back pulling her closer to him and her hands come up to run through his hair. Each swipe of her tongue seems to erase a bit more of Mike's hold on reality. Everything becomes her. As their kissing becomes more and more desperate and primal, Mike finds himself thrusting up against her as she grinds down against his jean clad lap. He moans softly into her mouth, his fingers splayed across the impossibly soft skin of her mostly bare back.

After just a few short minutes, (or who knows, maybe it was days, time has ceased to exist for Mike) the girl pulls back from him with a soft sigh. It's only once his lips are free that Mike realizes how much he forgot. Like how to breath, and he sucks in ragged breaths into his aching lungs. With each hit of oxygen comes the realization that Mike was about to have sex with a stripper with a large bouncer watching, the entire precinct listening, and two dangerous Russian gangsters waiting in the other room. And he's not even sure he cares.

"You're not a junkie." She says softly, leaning back and letting her ass settle in his lap, looking at him as if she's trying to solve a puzzle.

"Why do you say that?" Mike says, suddenly remembering his cover, and looking down at his lap, because he doesn't want to lie to her. Looking at his lap only reminds him how she's straddling him and how little the red thong leaves to the imagination. She smirks at him and leans close to his ear. The movement shifts her weight in his lap and Mike's fingers clench for control.

"Because if you were, you'd have this needle in your arm, and your cock in my mouth." She purrs in his ear.

"Maybe I'm not interested." He's lying and they both know it.

She slowly ungulates her hips in his lap feeling the bulge beneath the fabric of his jeans. She smirks at him knowingly. "Damn, you must be a good cop, because you're a bad liar."

"Why do you assume I'm a cop?" He asks in a guarded voice.

She laughs, and it sounds like christmas bells. Light and bright and full of presents to unwrap.

"Because you're not high, married, gay, or inside me." She grinds her hips and sucks on his earlobe at the same time, "...and those are some bad, bad men you're with."

"If I'm a cop, I could arrest you." Mike tries to regain control of the situation. He has a mission. He doesn't remember what it was at the moment, but he knows it's outside of this room. He doesn't remember what it is, but he knows he needs to focus.

"For what?" She smirks at him.

"How about prostitution?" Mike challenges.

"Why? Do you charge for your services?" She grins playfully.

She is teasing him! He's being teased by a stripper and not in the sexy way, but in the _you're so young and stupid_ way! Mike blushes in embarrassment. He wants to impress this girl, not… wait, why would he care what some stripper thinks of him?

He needs to find something over this girl. If he doesn't get the upper hand soon, she'll blow his cover and he'll be dead and worst of all Lex… no wait that's not right. His name is not Lex.

It starts with a different letter. What are the letters of the alphabet? Christ does her perfume have some sort of magic power that makes him unable to remember anything? What the hell was his name… Mike can't think of anything but that her lips feel amazing on his throat and he just wants to strip them both down, throw her up against a wall and fu- F! F was the letter. Felix! That was his name. Mike has to get out of this room or _Felix_ will never see his family again. He feels it took way too much of his limited brainpower to get to that thought. It's like her fingers are magnetically drawing his blood to wherever she touches.

"You're in a strip club. The dirty talks part of the job, and besides I haven't even accepted any cash. But, if you're really good…" She begins to lecture him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she speaks. He's unable to take his eyes away from her. "Maybe I'll put the cuffs on willingly."

"How about possession?" Mike has to stay focused, even as she sucks on his neck and rakes her fingernails down his now bare chest.

"Really? You're gonna charge me with an 11350? You haven't even seen my stash." She smirks, admiring the red welts that are forming on his pale skin from her nails.

"Well…" Mike gestures to his arm and the rubber band that's still tied around it. She's not exactly an innocent here. Something has to scare her.

"That's just a piece of rubber. Without the drugs you've got nothing." She continues dancing languidly in his lap, turning around and bending over so her ass is pressed tight between his legs.

"I could…" Mike's brain is fighting to work through the cloud of lust threatening to overtake him as he stares at her incredible ass that looks like it was made to fit perfectly between his thighs.

"You could what? You going to Terry stop me? I'm not wearing much. I doubt your search will pass the plain feel doctrine. Though if you beg, I might be persuaded to consent to a cavity search." She turns around and straddles his lap grinning lasciviously at him, and his fingers twitch instinctively against her hipbone.

"You certainly know a lot about the law…" Mike says suspiciously. For the second time, he finds himself more fascinated by what's going on in her brain rather than under the scraps of fabric masquerading as clothes.

"You caught me." She says, and Mike would relax except she continues talking and undulating in his lap. "I'm a cliché. A stripper with a heart of gold putting myself through law school."

Mike groans as she slides down his chest, between his legs, looking up at him from where she kneels in front of him with large green eyes. Just the sight of her kneeling between his legs is almost enough to make him cum. This is his first REAL case and he was going to be sucked off by a stripper with his entire team listening. And he thought the Levi thing was bad.

Still he finds himself somewhat disappointed when, instead of reaching for the zipper of his pants she reaches for the clasp of his watch. Loosening the band, she exposes the track marks Charlie painted on earlier, and looks up at him pointedly. In his head Mike is cursing his stupid cover, because he doesn't want her to think he's some hopeless junkie. Keeping her eyes trained on him, her pink tongue darts out between her lips as she takes a sensual long lick to his wrist. When she pulls away Mike doesn't even need to look down to know the tract marks on his flesh are smeared. She knows.

Mike eyes here carefully, the mood tense and dangerous between them as he waits to see if she rats him out. If she starts to ask questions. But instead she looks up at him and says in a soft serious voice, "Those guys you're with, they're dangerous."

"Maybe I'm dangerous." Mike says with more bravado than he feels.

"Maybe…" She seems to barely give the idea much thought, her teasing manner returning, but this time with a dangerously sultry edge. "What would you do to me Frankie that's so dangerous…? Would you hit me? Bruise me? Dominate me? Or would you do all those things, get me addicted to you and then break my heart?"

He wants to tell her he would never hurt her. If she was his, he would cherish her and protect her at all costs. He doesn't want to think about the type of men she's used to. The ones who would dare hurt her. He wonders if that's how she got into this career, because she seems far too smart, far too perfect, for this line of work. Mike can't find words however. Mike can barely breath as his eyes remain locked with hers.

His lips let out shaky breaths and she leans in close, only half an inch away, staring at him in a silent challenge. Her hand slides down his bare chest to the zipper of his jeans. She undoes the button, watching his face as she drags the zipper down over each rung. He just keeps his eyes locked with hers, his tongue wetting his lips as he waits for what happens next. She doesn't disappoint as she slips her hand down his pants, gripping his length in her small hand under his jeans.

Mike hits the button on his watch cutting the feed. He's going to get fired for this but he doesn't even care. Her touch is addictive, and he can't think. For the first time, he takes control. He grasps the back of her neck and kisses her his tongue forcing its way between her lips, claiming her.

"Slip the bouncer a twenty as we go by." She whispers in his ear.

"Wait… what?" Mike pulls away breathless, he doesn't understand. Where are they going? He's finally accepted this, and she wants to leave.

"Unless you like an audience. . ." She purrs. Mike looks around and realizes with a shock, there is another man in the room. The bouncer is still staring politely at the wall, not at them. Mike allows her to pull him out of the seat, his chest exposed and his pants undone, but still less exposed than the bra clad woman leading him.

He fumbles for his wallet, but the girl has already discreetly slipped a fifty dollar bill back to him to hand to the bouncer. Mike hands it to the bouncer, who accepts it with a slight nod and Mike follows the girl down the dark hall away from the club. Now the stripper is paying for sex. A week ago he was graduating top of his class in Quantico on his way to DC. Now a stripper is paying to have sex with him in California. What is happening to his life?


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the reviews! I like hearing what you think. You are correct, Paige suspects he's undercover, and has heard that she might be getting a new roommate, but doesn't know the two are connected. She's not quite sure who he is, she assumes he's a police officer or something, but she's not too concerned about it because she's on a mission. I'm considering rewriting this entire story from her POV, but I don't really think it will be necessary.****

**WARNING:** THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER. Sorry I don't write smut (or anything that's not primarily dialogue driven) well.

* * *

"Don't worry. This area's off limits." The girl says pushing him up against the cement wall. Mike just nods and leans down to capture her lips with his again. This is so not anything he ever thought he would do, but now that it's happening he doesn't want to lose his nerve. He kisses down her neck and begins to slide the thin fabric of her bra down to expose her bare skin to his hungry lips. Her fingers tangle in his hair and she throws her hair back, but all too soon she's tugging at his hair to come back to face level with her.

"There's no time. If I don't get you back soon, your buddies are going to think I snuck you out the stage door and absconded with you." The girl's voice is a sigh, as she murmers. "Which I admit is tempting."

The words remind Mike of the seriousness of the situation however, and he quickly spins her around so it's her back against the wall as he squints down the dark hallway. As if her mentioning them will somehow summon them to find Mike. If the Russians think he's made a run for it then… god her tongue is in his ear. That's amazing. How had he made it this far in life without realizing the pleasures a tongue in his ear could bring?

"Condom." She gasps breathlessly.

"What?" He asked, not understanding English anymore than Russian at the moment.

"Condom!" She repeats urgently, bringing her lips back to his, wrapping a leg around his waist and rocking her hips up to meet his.

"Oh! Condom! Shit." Mike wonders briefly where he would get one, and why a woman in her profession didn't have one. Not that she had anywhere to hide it in that tiny outfit. Mike reaches down to his wallet as a hail mary, and he is going to throw Johnny a parade when he gets back, because of course Johnny would think Mike would need a condom in his wallet as part of his cover. A wedding ring they forget, but a condom they give him.

Mike's fingers fumble, and he drops his wallet on the floor but doesn't care. With ruthless efficiency, she takes the condom from his shaking hands, rips the wrapper open and lets the foil pieces flutter to the ground.

"I want you to know, I never do this. This isn't me." Mike gasps into her mouth as she slides the rubber over him.

"I don't care who you are. Fuck me." The girl says bringing her hands up to his shoulders lifting herself up to line up with his hips. Bracing himself with one hand and holding her up against the wall with the other, Mike thrusts harshly into her. There's no build up. No tender lovemaking. His smooth skin is against her front, and the rough cement scraping her back, the girl lets out soft moans as Mike pumps into her as if his life depends on it.

"Oh God, Frankie." She cries out again and again as he penetrates her roughly.

"No names." Mike groans, wishing he could hear his real name fall from her lips, but not wanting to hear someone else's.

"Pseudonym?" She asks in between moans.

Mike can't answer her honestly, but he can't help the smirk from overtaking his lips even as he exerts himself holding her up against the wall as he thrusts into her willing body. The smirk tells her what she's already guessed; Frankie is an alias. She may never know who this man is who currently burying himself deep inside her, but at this moment the anonymity just seems to serve as an aphrodisiac for them both.

"Good. Stupid name anyways." She makes a noise that sounds halfway between a laugh and a moan. Mike hides his grins in the crevice of her neck as he continues to fuck her against the wall. She was sassy.

"Harder." She moans, arching against the wall, reaching for release and if Mike even had a thought that he was going to rough for this girl it's erased from his head. She can take it. She's tough.

"Can't from this angle…" Mike's arms are straining from the force of holding her up against the wall, and he can't get the leverage he needs to complete her request. Lowering her to the ground, she moans in protest as he pulls out of her. He quickly flips her around and pins her flat up against the wall. His body forms a human cage behind her, his arm reaching up to brace his hand high on the wall beside hers.

"Tell me something true." Mike begs breathlessly in her ear.

"You're so good. God you feel so good inside me. Not gonna last. Oh you're going to make me cum." For once this is the truth and not just lies she murmers to boost men's egos. Whoever this kid is, he knows how to fuck.

"No! Not something dirty. Something true about you." Mike groans as his hand grips her breast and she arches against him. "What's your favorite color?"

"Seriously?" The girl asks breathlessly as she pushes back to meet his thrusts, trying to get him even deeper inside her.

"I just want to know, something, fuck, anything real about you." Mike Warren has never done anything like this in his life, and even though he feels a connection, an obvious physical connection, his rational mind can't get over that he knows nothing about this girl. For a moment Mike thinks she won't answer, but finally she moans out one word.

"Blue."

"Why?" He challenges through gritted teeth as he tries to think of her words rather than the feeling of her wet and tight around him. He wants this to last. Even though at this point she seems out of her mind with pleasure, she complies as best she can.

"Ocean… first car… smurfs... your eyes…" To anyone else it would sound like meaningless babble, but to Mike it meant the world. He could see her walking along the beach staring out at a sunset with the waves lapping at her bare feet. The sixteen year old girl screaming in delight and surprise over the beat up piece of junk car that her parents bought her for her birthday. The small girl covered in blue marker chasing the boys through the woods complaining about always having to be smurfette. The terrified look he must have had when her eyes first met his.

"When I first walked in here, you were the first thing I saw." Mike whispers in her ear as she pushes back against his thrusts. He wants to tell her something true, and there's so little he can share. Mike's not even sure the girl hears him as she tries to grind both forward on his hand and back against his dick. He pulls her back against his hips, "Up on stage. Swaying. You were… Oh my god. The most beautiful, fuck yes, thing I'd ever seen."

"I'm so close. Just like that." She cries out as he seems to find the perfect angle to drive deep inside her. "Yes, please. Oh god. I need it. Need you. So good. "

Her entire body is shoved against the wall, as Mike ruts her from behind. His left hand is on the wall for leverage, the other hand is buried between her legs, rubbing her roughly in time with his thrusts. She rocks her hips forward against his hand and then back to take him deeper inside of him, seemingly unable to decide which brings her more pleasure.

Mike captures her lips with his as best he can at this angle, as they slam together again and again. She's not fragile, and Mike drives her into the wall, her encouraging him on with soft mewls the whole time. Mike has never experienced anything like this before. It's animalistic, almost inhuman sex. He has never just needed someone so badly that his logic was overcome. For once he wasn't thinking, he was just living, and each slap of skin against skin seemed to bring him more to life.

As he feels her quake around him, he feels his own moment of ecstasy crash upon him like a tidal wave. His mouth bites down hard on her neck, his eyes squeeze shut, and his pinky finger stretches out to link with her's. Even though he is buried inside her, it's the small gesture of linking their fingers, almost like they were holding hands, that feels the most intimate. He doesn't even know her name, yet as he pants into her bare shoulder, glistening with sweat and glitter, he feels a deep connection.

Mike's vision slowly comes back to him, but for a long moment the two just stand pressed against the concrete wall, panting in time with each other as they gasp for air and try to calm their pulses. Finally Mike pulls himself out of her and turns with his back against the cool cement beside her, still heaving for breath.

She rests her sweaty forehead against the wall turning to face him, a satisfied glow on her face as the two stare appreciatively at each other. Whatever had them wound up tight before has released like a coil within them, and they both have the easy slow sluggishness that only great sex can bring. If they were in bed together, Mike would pull her into his arms and take a nap, but he has a job to get back to.

"Look I don't mean to be, oh my god, rude but… I have to go. I'm sorry. I mean you're… fuck… the most beautiful… I just can't… Could I come back another night?!" Mike can't form complete thoughts after the mindblowing sex that had just occurred, "Another night. Any other night. Look I know you don't know me, and christ… That's not me. I swear but… Fuck. Can I just buy you dinner next week?"

"You want to buy me dinner?" The red head laughs in surprise, as she pulls her bra back up to cover her breasts, such as she can with such thin fabric.

"Yes. I really, really do." Mike says, staring deeply into her eyes hoping she'll see how sincere he is at this moment.

"I think at this point, doesn't all that wining and dining seems a little superfluous?"

"I don't care. Please. Have dinner with me." Mike says, realizing he's coming off as way too intense, but he doesn't care. He can't think about that right now. He just knows this cannot be the last time he sees her.

"What? Do you want to date me?" She laughs, "Aren't you married?"

"I… I can't… I just have to see you again. What's your name?" Mike asks desperately.

"Roxie." The redhead replies without missing a beat.

"Not your stripper name. Your real name." Mike calls her out on the obvious lie.

"Tonight it's Roxie. It might be different tomorrow night though..." She teases flirtatiously in a way that makes Mike lose his breath and consider going for round two against the wall.

"God, can I… can I call you tomorrow?" Mike begs.

She eyes him suspiciously, hesitating. It's the first sign of doubt he's seen her express, and he can tell she's breaking some sort of personal rule she's set for herself, though he has no idea where her moral compass points. He just knows he wants to find out more about her.

"Please. Just dinner."

"Give me your phone." She finally says, but seems to be second guessing herself.

"I…" Mike realizes a phone is not in his possession. Frankie doesn't have a phone. "I don't have one. Tell me the number. I promise I'll remember it."

"Really?" She looks at him doubtfully.

"Trust me, I have a really good memory." Mike insists.

She leans in and quickly whispers her number in his ear. Mike knows he will remember those digits until the day he dies.

"Ok, then… Guess I'll talk you tomorrow." She says, as though she doesn't actually think he'll call her.

"You will." He promises.

She awkwardly gives him a kiss on the cheek, but as she pulls away the cool confident mask is back in place as she whispers, "Say you were going to the restroom though, the boss won't like me fraternizing with customers."

"Where are you going?" Mike asks, walking her head off in the opposite direction.

"To the dressing room. You seem to have stolen all my lipstick." She gives him one last mischievous grin before turning around a dark corner.

Mike watches her go with a dazed smile. He begins to rebutton his shirt. He ducks back into the bathroom to do damage control.

He slides the used condom off and disposes of it in the toilet. He fixes his clothes, and then leans into the mirror trying to ignore the shiteating grin on his face which is evidence he clearly just had sex. He double checks for any other evidence. His scar is still in place over his forehead, though his hair is even more mussed than before, and his lips and neck are covered with smeared remnants of red lipstick. He touches his bruised and tingling lips, licking the last taste of cherry from them. Looking down at his watch he quickly turns it back on.

"Sorry. I was worried they were going to do another sweep. I'm back now." Mike says to his watch, grinning into the mirror. Even though it's only a one way feed, Mike can practically hear Johnny calling him a dirty dog on the other side.

He walks out of the bathroom and back down the hall towards the area where the Russians are waiting for him. They must be pretty confident Mike aka Frankie won't run. He notices the doors he walks past and one of them says dressing room and is heavily guarded by two bouncers. But if the dressing room is up here, then where did Roxie go back the other way? Mike doesn't have time to think about that though, because the Russians are paying their bill and dragging him towards the door. Apparently now that the strip break is over, it's time for Frankie to go kill someone.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Last Chapter! Thanks to all who read, reviewed and responded. Happy Valentines Day to all! Hope it's lovely.

* * *

The next night, Mike goes undercover to a very different club. Charlie has drug him along to be her fake boyfriend to meet the the one roommate he hasn't met yet.

As Mike sees the beautiful blonde woman on stage, he considers telling Charlie that he has actually already knows the sixth roommate pretty well. In fact he'd he would recognize the sway of those hips and the curve of that smile anywhere.

"That's Paige." Mike finally has the real name of the beautiful woman on stage is. He suddenly remembers the red headed wig he saw in the house dressing room. That sexy minx. Living in the room next to her is going to be torture.

When she comes down off the stage, she doesn't acknowledges him. Barely gives him a second glance. Mike begins to think he imagined the whole thing, but there's no way he could dream up a woman this beautiful. Mike is beginning to worry that she doesn't even remember him, but the look she gives him when she tells him she's not going to screw Bobby is unmistakable. She may play it cool, much cooler than Mike, but she knows exactly who he is.

When Paige leaves the bathroom, and Charlie ducks into a stall to pee Mike sees his opportunity and dashes after the beautiful blonde before she can make it back to Bobby's side. Pulling her into a dark corner, he crosses his arms and looks down at her and says in what he hopes is a cool voice "You gave me a fake number."

"You didn't write it down. Maybe you forgot." She says with a coy smile. They both know Mike didn't get the number wrong, but Mike's not sure whether or not he's upset about this. This girl is more and more puzzling by the minute. She looks him up and down and teases, "Weren't you taller last night?"

"Did you actually do E while on the job?" Mike asks, ignoring her question. If height was what attracted her, he didn't want to admit he'd been wearing three inch lifts in his boots, instead, he cuts straight to the chase. He wants to ask her a million questions, but they don't have much time.

"Of course not. Breath mint." She rolls her eyes.

"Were you really going to shoot me up with heroin?" Mike asks, as he replays the whole night in his mind with the knowledge that she was an agent the entire time. If she was an agent, where had she learned to dance like that?

"No, I was going to give you a sedative, but you nearly fainted at the sight of the needle, you pansy, so I had to change plans." Paige teases him with a laugh.

"So where did you actually go that night after we..." Mike blushes, finding himself leaning in again subconsciously, until his jacket brushes against her. "You said the dressing room, but I passed it on my way out and you went the other way."

"I got into the main office, I managed to find out how they smuggle the drugs out. I've been working on that case for a while now, so thanks for helping me crack it." Paige's whisper is husky, and she brings a hand up to his chest. Mike's not sure if it's to stop him from leaning closer or to feel his heart pounding.

"Why'd you need me?" Mike says, tearing his eyes away from her lips and up towards the bathroom door. Charlie would be out any minute.

"I needed an excuse to get back there beyond the bouncer. You seemed like a good distraction." She says simply.

"How'd you know I was stationed at Graceland? Did they show you my picture or something?" Mike asks, curious. Had everyone been in on this and no one told him? Was she placed at that strip club as back up?

"I didn't." Her answer surprises him, and his eyes narrow curiously.

"Then why did you pick me?" His voice drops to a whisper.

"You were cute." Paige grins in an unabashed way at the memory of Mike sitting there nervously looking horribly out of place in the strip joint. Just like he looks here. Innocent. Lost. Incredibly sexy. She can't help but to laugh at the confused look on his face, before she begins walking away from the dark corner the two shared back into the crowded bar. If she stayed there too much longer, they might have a repeat of the club night. She would have to be on guard around Mike now that he was living down the hall.

Mike however, follows her and takes her arm to keep her from leaving. The touch of his fingers against her bare skin tingles. They both look down to where he's touching her, a perfectly innocent patch of skin on her upper arm, and when their eyes meet again they both know the other felt the electricity too. Mike's mouth feels dry. He immediately drops her arm awkwardly and begins to apologize.

"Listen. I'm sorry. If I would have known who you were I would have never…" Mike realizes with horror his apology is coming out wrong, and quickly tries to clarify that he never would have slept with a stripper either. "I mean, not that I would have otherwise... I mean obviously I would, because I did, but that wasn't me! I still can't believe it happened. I never do anything like that. I've never even been to a strip club. It was my first undercover and I-"

"Believe me I get it. Sometimes the undercover can go to your head and with all that adrenaline things can happen." She explains in a way that says she really does understand, but doesn't want to talk about it.

"Well, good thing we brought you those birth control pills right?" Mike jokes nervously, but is suddenly hit with a pang of jealousy as he remembers she is currently undercover as they speak. As someone else's girlfriend. "Sorry."

"Yeah. Thanks for that. I better get back to work. See you around, Levi."

"It's Mike." Now that he can tell her his real name he desperately wants to hear her say it. She just smiles and begins to walk away and Mike calls after her. "So now that you know who I am, do you still want to do dinner?"

"Did you just say 'do dinner?'" Paige's laugh and turns back to him. That laugh makes Mike's knees week even as she teases him.

"Yeah… Dinner. With me." Mike says, trying to sound confident.

"Given that we share a kitchen I think we'll have lots of dinner together coming up." Paige answers breezily.

"I just don't want you to think that I'm the kind of guy who does one night stands with nameless-"

"Don't worry. You'll get used to it." Paige assures him, and Mike doesn't think she understands that he doesn't want to get used to it.

"So you're saying last night meant nothing?" He asks, feeling like he already knew the answer and didn't like it.

He knows he needs his main focus to be on the job, and the last thing he needs is to start something up with a coworker, but it seems a little too late for all that now since Mike already knows what she tastes like and how she sounds when she reaches her peak. God she'll be living just one wall over. He doesn't know if he can come back from this.

"Not nothing, but I wouldn't read too much into it. It was a fluke. Soon it'll be just one of those funny 'how they met' stories… Admittedly maybe one that we shouldn't share with the rest of the house." Paige grins conspiratorily.

"Funny, I was told the first rule is there are no secrets in Graceland." Mike says, smiling at her even though he feels his soul being crushed as he resigns himself to the friend zone.

"No, first rule is no guns downstairs." Paige corrects him in a playful tone. "Besides, from what I saw the other night, you seem to enjoy breaking the rules."

"Wow. You really don't know me at all do you?"

"Maybe you don't know yourself." She retorts. Her wise words shock him and Mike has to do a double take at her. Maybe she's right. He doesn't know who he is anymore. He wants to keep talking to her, but all he can do is watch helplessly as the blonde winks at him and then walks away back to join the thug with his spiked drink.

"Come on lover boy. Let's go get you cooled off at the house before Bobby Moi has you killed for looking at her." Charlie says taking Mike's arm and dragging him towards the door. "Though I have to say, that would make a good story of how you met Paige."

"I already have a pretty good story." Mike says giving one last look over his shoulder at the blonde who was somehow both closer and simultaneously more out of reach than he could have imagined.

"Not as good as we have." Charlie laughs, remembering how Mike pulled a gun on her.

"No…" Mike says with a smile.

Let the lying and secrets commence.


End file.
